


A Plan for Tanuary

by canox



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Escapism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foot Humping, Humiliation, No Pregnancy, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Spit As Lube, Vacation, Vaginal Sex, because she wants him to, more of ben calling rey a slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canox/pseuds/canox
Summary: Rey is on a well-deserved vacation from her job selling luxury cars. Her favorite client calls to help her relax.Sequel toDecember to Remember. I promise the worst pun is right there in the title.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	A Plan for Tanuary

**Author's Note:**

> If you read and enjoyed December to Remember, here’s some more smut with those two. If not, who cares! This is just (even more) porn without plot.
> 
> Have fun on the beach with Rey!
> 
> (Full disclosure, because I’m a rule-follower, that this was supposed to be a #ReyloKinkuary exercise. Instead, it’s me semi-ignoring the prompts and taking another crack at a dynamic I thought would be easy but that totally sent me to strugglesville. It’s...kinky tho???)

It might be kind of fun to try golf, Rey thought on her third morning in Mexico.

From the viewpoint on the nature trail where she’d stopped for water, she could see over the lagoon to the fairways along the Caribbean coast, velvety and inviting. It would be like going for a massage, but instead of being pummeled herself, she’d wallop golf balls across the greens. She might even be secretly good at it.

Hang on. Had her midlife crisis come early? Golf was her clients’ hobby. They funneled their extra cash into country-club memberships. Their number-one gripe about the Forsche sports cars she sold them wasn’t that the trunk could barely hold a load of groceries, but that it wasn’t big enough for a full set of golf clubs.

It was probably fine. Just a sign she was relaxing into Tanuary: her annual and very much deserved holiday in the sun. Flights were cheaper after New Year’s, and the points she’d earned by collecting sign-up bonuses on ten different credit cards not only covered her stay, but got her upgraded from a garden-view room to one overlooking the beach when she checked in to the resort. Who needed money (or a perfect credit score) when you had a scheme.

If she was thinking seriously about golf, she was fully in vacation mode. Totally disconnected from her clients, her commission, and the need to explain that no, she couldn’t guarantee the wood trim on the client’s car would have exactly the same knot pattern as the model they test drove, have you ever _seen_ a goddamn _tree_ , Bill.

She’d hiked and swum and margarita-ed her way into a space where golf was just golf and she wasn’t a salesperson. Just a person.

A bird swooped low over her head, and she swiveled to look. Still not a parrot, tragically, even though there were flocks of them on the resort website and she longed to see one. The sun had nearly climbed over the trees, though, and soon it would be blazing down, drawing sweat from pores she’d forgotten she had.

Beach first. Then she’d see about golf.

*

Her phone buzzed. Rey jerked upright on the chaise, blinking. She’d almost been lulled to sleep by the rush of the waves and the heat bouncing off the sand until her phone vibrated against her stomach, where her sleepy fingers had let it fall. Tilting her sun hat cast enough shade for her to read the screen.

Ooh. A message from Ben, the client she’d fantasized about after selling him a sports car and finally fucked on Christmas morning. And again that afternoon. And several times since. She had been very good the previous year. It was what she deserved.

Like most of her clients, Ben was a rich asshole. What made him different was that he was hot, with steering-wheel-spanning hands and eyes that alternately darkened with disapproval and eagerly drank her up.

She liked that. She might even like him. She hoped they could see more of each other when she got back from her trip, and sent a text saying so, along with what she thought was a fairly daring nude selfie from her balcony.

_How’s the beach? Are you at the club I told you about?_

Rey had told him about her trip so he’d understand if she declined an invite to come over and come repeatedly on his couch. To her surprise, though, Ben was full of suggestions: a restaurant with a secret garden and the best tequila collection in town, the cenote no one else knew about, an island where she could swim with whale sharks. 

The knowledge hadn’t been beamed into his head when he turned twenty-one and achieved full rich-person status, either. Apparently his mom and dad had vacationed on the Riviera Maya a year or two earlier, and he’d actually _looked_ at the photos of their trip even though he didn’t get along that well with his parents.

_just at the resort, it’s beautiful  
no whale sharks tho  
not the right season :(_

_Oh right. Forgot about that_ , he typed back. _Alone at the beach. You’re not slutting it up down there?_

He meant it to tease her. He knew exactly how much that name pressed her buttons.

_I WISH  
everyone else is here with their partner_

The reply was instant. _Poor thing.  
Going so long without getting what you need.  
I bet you put on a little bikini this morning  
Hoping someone would look twice at you_

How did he know? She’d had that exact thought when she shimmied into the bandeau top, then immediately chastised herself for not dressing for herself and herself only. A flicker of embarrassment washed over her, warm as the water where it crept up the sand. And—like the water—it made her wet.

_want a photo?_

She’d already toggled to the camera when he answered. 

_That’s cheating. Tell me about it._

The phone buzzed with a call. Like all of her clients, he was saved in her contacts under his full name, with a headshot pulled from his company’s website. It made her shiver every time to see that flat, here-to-do-business glare and then hear his flinty, your-counteroffer-disgusts-me voice.

She wanted him to look at her with that kind of professional disinterest, to make her feel both too small and too much. Beneath his notice yet impossible to ignore. The tiny problem was that when they were together, he couldn’t completely get the excitement out of his eyes.

“I’m listening,” he said when she picked up.

“Aren’t you at the office?”

He huffed, more a laugh for himself than for her. “Worry about yourself. People will notice if you put a hand down your bikini. Does it tie on the sides?”

She crossed her legs, pressing everything from ankles to upper thighs tight together. “Yeah. The top doesn’t tie. It’s a band, all red. With flowers.”

“Mmm. Nice.”

He was right that she couldn’t touch herself in the middle of the beach, but she also needed more than that. 

“Nice?” she said. “That’s all?” She cupped a hand around her mouth. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m—I don’t know—a slut for prancing around wearing nothing and getting turned on?”

“All you said was that you’re wearing a red bikini. Nothing about being turned on,” he said, correctly but infuriatingly. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

The first time they slept together, it was nice that he looked to her for permission. Now that he had it, she suspected he didn’t really need the direction anymore. He just didn’t want to let her get away with keeping her dirty thoughts locked up tight in her head. 

Then again, no matter how much she cringed hearing herself say _Call me a slut while you fuck my mouth, I came so many times thinking about it_ , he’d listen and do it.

Rey glanced around. No one would be the wiser if she lay back and put her sun hat over her face. No one would see her lips forming the words _I’m so turned on I could come rubbing on your thigh again_.

“I wish you were here to pull the top off me,” she whispered into her little straw cocoon.

“That’s better. Get some sun on your pretty tits. What would you let me do to them in front of everyone?”

“Anything,” Rey said breathlessly. “Lick them. Suck them.”

“You can’t help yourself. You’d be shoving them in my face.”

That was more like it. She pointed and flexed her toes. Rubbing her thighs together any more than she already was would be shamefully obvious. Sweat gathered between them, making it harder to get the friction she wanted.

“I’m so wet,” she whimpered into the phone. “It feels like I went swimming.”

“So?” Like it didn’t concern him, and he was sick of hearing about her vacation. All so that she would say it first.

“It’s—messy,” she prompted.

“All worked up, huh? Not very nice to leave a wet spot for the next person who sits there.” He hummed in disapproval. Or thought. “Where’s your beach towel? Put that between your legs. Make a mess on that.”

It _did_ make her cunt flex around nothing, but she didn’t want to get kicked out of the resort. “I can’t. Not on the beach.”

“We’ve been talking for two minutes, and you’re already desperate,” he said. “Do you need to go back to your room?”

“Yes,” she said. Such a good idea. And so silly of her. If she hadn’t taken leave of her sense as soon as she read _slutting it up_ , she would have started walking the moment he called.

“Call me back when you get there.”

*

Rey redialed Ben from the hallway right outside her room. She was caught up in fumbling in her beach tote for her room key, thinking about whether to use her fingers on herself or the toy she’d packed. But dimly she registered that as the phone rang in her ear, something buzzed inside.

Then the door swung open, and she saw it. The bow.

The same red bow she’d worn to Ben’s house on Christmas morning with only a thong underneath. The one that was meant to go on top of the car she sold him. The one that was meant to be a code-red signal that she wanted him. A few of its loops were partly crushed, like it had been sat on.

It was sitting atop Ben himself, who was sprawled across the bed, head propped on his elbow, one knee lifted in a pose straight out of the calendars that sometimes appeared in the Forsche parts department. A more muscled and very impatient pinup.

The bow covered Rey almost from chin to knees. On Ben, it started below his shoulders and hit just above the bulge of his quads. She hoped he’d chosen to pair it with a thong, too. Or, better yet, that he was naked under it. He’d even taken off the watch that divided his day into Time to Work and Time to Make Yourself Come, Rey, It’s Been Ten Minutes.

“Ben?” she said, like she hadn’t already clocked him and started imagining the ways he could help her out of her bikini and into a mindless state of pleasure. “What are you doing here?”

He declined her call and set his phone on the nightstand. “The question is, what were _you_ about to do? You seem desperate. Do you need some help?”

One great idea after another from this guy today. “Yes,” she said, dumping her phone and tote on the bench by the door. She hooked her thumbs into her bikini bottoms, planning to wriggle out of them by the time she made it to the bed. “Take off the bow and fuck me into next week.”

Ben didn’t move. “Not even a ‘how was your flight’? Someone needs it even more than I thought she would.” He lifted a finger in the direction of her swimsuit. “Leave those on. It’s not time for your present yet.”

Rey paused halfway to the bed. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten on a plane and surprised her just to tease her like this. Except she could, and he _had_.

“I showed up wearing that because I wanted you to take it off,” she said. “You didn’t have the same idea?”

“There’s a difference.” He smiled with his lips only—a little mean, a lot bikini-creaming—and made room for her to sit. “You showed up ready to do anything for my cock. I’m here because I have something you want. I _might_ be feeling generous enough to give it to you if you show me you need it bad enough.”

Truly unbelievable. She still felt a hot spurt of shame when she thought of how she’d wrapped herself in the bow and driven across town, sliding on the driver's seat because she was so turned on. Such a ridiculous thing to do. Now _he_ was sweating into the stupid plastic ribbon and still managed to be the one doing the humiliating.

Rey climbed onto the bed and sat back on her heels. If she shifted just right, she could press the edge of one foot between her legs and give herself something to rub against.

“Are you going to give it to me, though? Or are you just going to talk about it?” she asked, trying to dare him rather than go right into pleading. Maintain a little bit of dignity.

He half-rolled toward her, reaching for her knee like he was going to pat it. The bow got in the way. He squeezed her fingers instead. “I thought you liked it when I talk.”

“I _do_ like it.”

“So listen and then tell me whether you’re a needy little slut or a good girl who wants me to fuck her nicely.”

She nodded and shut her eyes. It shouldn’t have affected her this much, all this talking and no touching. But he was right; it had been a few days, and she’d gotten herself so worked up on the beach.

“It’s very nice here,” he said lightly. Pleasantly. Narrating his own personal PBS travel special. “You can hear the ocean and the breeze. It’s warm and sunny. The bed feels like a cloud.” He paused. “It’s weird, though, because everything in here smells like your cunt.”

Her eyes flew open. Had he thought up this little speech between business-class snacks on the plane? Practiced it while he heard about the lack of whale sharks and waited for her to come back from the beach? Good for him. She was impressed.

“I think you need to show me what you’ve been doing here all by yourself,” Ben went on. “I need to know what I’m dealing with. Then you can have your present. What do you think?”

“It’s good,” she croaked. “Good idea.”

*

He gave her the choice of his arm or his foot. While she hesitated—the arm was tempting, since she’d have to look him in the eye, which would be awful but thrilling, but then again, foot meant he’d be looking down on her—he swung his legs around.

“You’ve been squirming all over your own foot while you sat there. Did you think I wouldn’t see?” He tapped his foot, impatient. “Go ahead.”

So she slithered down and got to work, knees on the laminate, clit pressed right above his ankle, where the top of his foot sloped into shin. Her legs dangled if she sat at the edge of the bed; his were long enough that his toes rested flat on the floor. Was he even watching? She couldn’t see his face behind the tangle of plastic ribbon.

Her first pass actually made a noise seep out from her bathing suit, along with a trickle of sweat and slick. Where were the not-parrots that wanted to sing their little beaks off right outside her balcony door at dawn? Where was the air conditioner that hummed incessantly from midnight to seven a.m., valiantly keeping the tropical heat from warming her winter-weary bones?

Rey closed her eyes, like that would keep her from hearing herself, and kept rocking. It wasn’t as good as having her legs splayed over his thigh, stretching her hips in a way that gave her a taste of how she’d stretch around his cock, but it wasn’t _bad_. The double layer of her bikini smoothed the ridge of his shinbone into a blunt instrument for her pleasure. 

She leaned back on her hands and untucked her feet. If she hooked her legs behind his knee, she could angle herself up and get the pressure she needed to come. Well, in theory. All it did was spread her wetness further onto his shin. And give him a view directly into her crotch as she shoved it upwards.

Ben’s voice dropped from far above her, quashing that idea. “I said foot. Not that you could rub yourself all over my leg.”

She groaned and shifted back to her knees, hugging his leg for leverage. She rested her chin on his knee while she moved her hips faster, dragging her clit over the top of his foot.

“Better,” Ben said. “I’ll rinse my foot off after you’re done.”

She’d been near enough. The reminder that she’d made a mess of him was enough to pull Rey up to the peak.

“I’m so close,” she whispered into his thigh, eyes still squeezed shut. As though if she couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see how frantically she was moving.

He wiggled his toes.

It wasn’t the flex of his foot against her cunt that made her come. It was that she told him she was close, and he barely moved a muscle. She cried out, and her torso slumped into his shin as her hips quieted down.

“Thank god,” Ben said. His hand came down to stroke her hair. “I mean, I can’t believe you came so fast on my fucking foot. Are you ready for your present?”

Rey opened her eyes and grinned up at him. “Absolutely.”

“Of course you are. Coming once is never enough for you.”

*

The bow slipped right off when she tugged one end of the flimsy ribbon with her teeth. In exchange for taking it off with her mouth, he let her put her lips over the erection that sprang out at her.

He filled her mouth with his cock and her ears with a steady stream of nonsense, talking the pre-come onto her tongue and another wave of wetness into her already-soaked bikini. _This is what you need, right? I bet you’d love to have me in your mouth all the time. Sit by my feet on the beach and keep it out of the sun. Don’t nod. Sluts don’t need to talk._

He got her to put a finger inside herself and show him how slick she was. Then he made her watch while he sucked her finger clean.

“That’s how wet I want my cock,” he said. “Open your mouth and I’ll help you.”

Rey didn’t say ‘ah’ so much as sigh it. She’d come, he’d agreed that coming once wasn’t enough for her, and there were so many days left in her vacation. Her body had moved through embarrassment and into a haze where she’d do anything to keep feeling this good.

So she tipped her head back and took it as he let a string of spit fall into her mouth. When he wiped his chin, finished, she leaned forward and drooled onto his cock, rubbing saliva into the tip with her tongue. She softened her throat and pushed him against it, setting a rhythm. 

It turned her on even more to hear him groan, to feel his abs tighten against her forehead when he tried to keep from choking her. At the same time it felt like the least she could do for him when Ben was so willing to shame her the way she craved.

“Fuck, don’t—” He tugged her hair, and she let the head of his cock slide out of her mouth. “That’s enough.”

*

He could have tossed her onto the bed and fucked her. Thrown control to the palm-whipped wind and pounded away like his cock was the ocean and her cunt, a cliff. Rey sometimes felt a little guilty when he finally slipped inside her and patiently goaded her into coming instead of chasing his own climax. She liked it—obviously—but what if he got tired of waiting, of putting on his asshole act for her?

Instead, Ben yanked her suit off and lifted her up, so she could straddle him and sink onto his cock, then reached behind him for the bow and wrapped the ribbon around her wrists, so she couldn’t move her hands. Okay. Maybe the asshole thing wasn’t totally an act.

“I’m not going to let you go until both of us come,” he said. “And even then, only if you ask nicely.”

“So thirty seconds from now?” She smiled into his neck at her own joke. Somehow he still smelled like cedar soap and coffee, and not the kind served in airport terminals that steamed with the sour fug of flight delays and missed connections. Asshole.

The ribbon tightened until her wrists touched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you not need this after all?”

“No!” She sat up and wiped the giggle off her face. “No, I need it. I’ll do anything.”

“That’s what I thought. Start moving.”

She rolled her hips, imagining that she could feel his warm skin in all four corners of her cunt.

“Harder. I know you like it when your tits bounce.” He cupped a hand around one. “So many more freckles here. Are you going to let me come on all of them?”

“After you come inside me this time.” The mattress bowed beneath her knees.

“I’m going to. I’m going to come in you so many times you’ll be dripping for the rest of your trip. All over the sand. By the pool.” He moved his fingers from her nipple to her clit. “Look at you. Almost coming just thinking about it.”

Rey groaned and kept going. That sounded so good she wasn’t sure she had the words to tell him.

“What’s that?” Ben asked. “You’d like that?” His voice was light, still taunting. His eyes, though, were getting darker. Almost as needy as hers.

“You know I would.” She struggled against the ribbon, wanting more leverage.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m a slut who loves it.” He’d made her say it so many times right before she came that it flew out of her mouth. It was no longer a hurdle to clear, but a button to press to get her there. Push here for bliss.

“I know.” He started thrusting up into her, a sign that he was close, too. “I know exactly what you are. I’m going to give you exactly what you need.”

“I need it, Ben, please,” she said, not caring if it made sense. Every thrust felt like the last she could take without coming. “In my mouth, in my cunt, in my—oh, fuck—my ass.”

No sooner had she said it than she was gone, her vision whited out; no sooner did she twist on top of him, pushing at his thumb to ride out her orgasm, than he jerked up one last time and followed her.

*

Rey kicked the bow off the bed so they could stretch out, revealing a pair of underwear she thought she’d piled in her suitcase with her other laundry.

“Oops.” She yawned, ready for a catnap before what she hoped would be part two of many. “I swear I’m being civilized. Not stuffing these under the sheets.”

Ben’s face nearly purpled. He hadn’t even blushed when he showed up unannounced wearing nothing but velvet-textured plastic. Now he’d gone past crimson into magenta.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” She’d never seen him speechless. Words always poured out of his mouth, demanding that she sell him a car or indulging whatever slut-based fantasy she’d come up with that day.

He shut his eyes, like he couldn’t even look at her while saying it. “I took them out of your suitcase.”

“Okay. I’ll just put them back.” Rey balled up the lace and tossed it back across the room. The underwear landed at the edge of the scree spilling from her suitcase. Oh, yeah. With that aim, she’d be hitting holes-in-one in no time. Maybe Ben would want to come along and drive the golf cart. Keep score for her with the little pencil. _This hole is a par 3, Rey. Three fingers_.

She shook that daydream away. He was still muttering through a jaw locked up tighter than her minibar. (She’d eat the snacks she brought herself, thank you very much.)

“I did it before I messaged you,” he said. He finally opened his eyes to give her a pleading look. Pleading! With her! “Only so it would last longer.”

Like the sun peeking over the trees on the nature trail that morning, the truth dawned on her. “You jerked off—into them? With them?”

Even his ears were fuchsia now. He nodded and got up. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” It came out low, like she was irritated. But the thought of him pulling her panties over his face and his cock, catching his come with them, knowing he wasn’t supposed to, was even better than the idea of him filling her up on the fairway. He wasn’t getting tired of obliging her. He was gagging for it just as much as she was.

“I’m not a complete asshole, okay? I have some sense of social norms. I didn’t mean for you to find out, which is creepy, plus you did, which makes it even worse. I mean, I had to make a reservation and everything so they’d let me into the resort.

“And you should have seen the look on the guy’s face at the front desk when I asked to get into your room. I had to leave him my watch _and_ my passport to convince him to let me in.”

She waited until he had to pause for a breath. “Are you done?”

“Yeah. I’ll leave you alone. He at least owes me an early check-in for making fun of me.”

Rey snatched his hand before he could collect his phone from the nightstand. “I don’t think so.”

“I know, check-in isn’t until three, but I have a suite so they _ought_ to—”

Oh. Maybe she’d cancel her own reservation and tag along to Ben’s giant room later on. His fingers were clammy—with embarrassment?—as she tugged him back to the bed.

“Don’t be an asshole,” she said. “You came all this way and you’re going to fuck me once and then leave?”

His smile didn’t dare go past his eyes. Not yet. “No?”

She pulled at his wrist. “I showed you what I’ve been doing. It’s only fair that you show me, too.”

“Oh. Well. In that case, I absolutely will show you, and you’re going to love it.” He covered her stretched-out limbs with his own.

Her own smile was incredibly smug. Too bad. “I thought so.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Valentine’s Day, they attempt some kind of elaborate bondage situation with the bow, only to discover that the plastic-ribbon edges are sharp against the skin. 
> 
> (Then they might have to throw it away? That “fabric” is _not_ breathable and at this point is covered in bodily fluids.)
> 
> Thoughts on Ben as a whale shark (beautiful, huge) and Rey as a dolphin (feisty, smol)? When I went swimming with whale sharks (not a brag; unexpectedly a little bit terrifying!), the guide told us the dolphins who lived in the same bay harassed the whale sharks all the time.
> 
> Anyway I'm on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/canox_writes).


End file.
